


Like Y'Know, Nyan

by KasumiAFKGod



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, cat shenanigans, the one where Jack gets turned into a cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:03:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/pseuds/KasumiAFKGod
Summary: Reaper and company have rejoined Overwatch, but the old Blackwatch Commander is still at odds with his former partner.  Angela mucks up an experiment and accidentally turns Jack into an old, grumpy white cat. Gabriel is tasked with looking after him and frankly, he's tired of Morrison's shit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of Japan's annual Cat Day (22/2).

“You’re lying.”

 

“I wish I was, partner.”

 

The lumpy pillowcase dangling in McCree’s outstretched hand hisses, the white cotton stretching and contorting from within like an alien being. The man’s expression is decidedly surly, hat knocked askew and fresh scratches littering his prosthetic where something had gauged the metal numerous times. Even his face sports three sets of perfectly parallel lines still beading with blood, criss-crossing over his cheeks and nose.

 

Frowning from behind the mask, Gabriel points at the pillowcase with a gleaming metal claw. “You shove a sack full of angry old cat in my face and really expect me to believe that’s Jack?”

 

Said cat hisses again, the pillowcase fighting harder to get free.

 

McCree scoffs, brows pulled together in a grouchy scowl. “Ask Angela, she was the one who told me to come to the lab to get him. Wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

 

Gabriel lets out a hiss of his own, clawed gauntlets reaching out to dig into the doorframe and causing the wood to creak. That, he could believe over this whole setup being an elaborate prank. Damned woman, dabbling in experimental technology again.

 

“So why the hell are you here?”

 

“Ain’t it obvious? You’re going to be taking care of him until this shit gets sorted out.”

 

“No, I am not,” Gabriel responds instantly, grinding out each word from behind gritted teeth. “Go bother someone else more suited, like Song. Or Wilhelm, old bastard actually likes cats. Or take care of him yourself, you’re the one who got him first.”

 

Eyes narrowing into a glare, McCree’s lips lift in a snarl that pulls at the scratches on his face. “Does it look like me an’ him get along?”

 

“Does it look like I care?” Gabriel growls back, waving him off and beginning to close the door. “Get lost, I just got back from a mission and I don’t have time for this shi—”

 

“Oh no you don’t!” yells McCree, foot darting forward to stop the door from closing. The pillowcase spits “You’re not leaving me with this demon!”

 

“And you’re not dumping him on me!”

 

“Watch me!”

 

Gabriel’s eyes widen. “Don’t you fucking da—”

 

Before Gabriel can stop him, McCree upends the pillowcase over their feet. A mass of pure white tumbles out and drops to the floor with an indignified yowl before streaking between Gabriel’s legs and into his room.

 

“ _JESSE MOTHERFUCKING MCCREE—_ ”

 

“ _Have fun, boss!_ ” yells McCree, cackling as he ran away and down the corridor almost as fast, disappearing before Gabriel could grab him.

 

Gabriel spits a curse down at the corridor after him anyway, before slamming the door shut. Idiot ingrate, he’d be sure to fix him up for this later.

 

He turns to take in his room, eyes roaming in search of a disgruntled animal, but finding none. Everything is silent and in its place, just where he left it, leaving no hint as to the cat’s whereabouts. Gabriel sighs, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands.

 

“Morrison,” he snarls, “I’m not in the mood for games. Come out.”

 

Not a single movement from the room. Not even a peep.

 

“Cat or not, I’m going to blow your damn brains out if you don’t come out of hiding right the fuck now.”

 

Still no response. How far was Jack’s transformation into a cat anyway? Far enough to not understand human speech, maybe?

 

Gabriel clicks his tongue in irritation. “I don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, yanking off his gauntlets and throwing them in the direction of the desk. Stripping himself of his regular artillery takes only seconds from years of practice on the field. In less than a minute he’s free of his compression shirt and his leather pants have been swapped for an old, holey pair of sweatpants. His bed looks incredibly inviting so he flops down into it, figuring he could postpone his shower for later.

 

“I better not wake up to the scent of cat piss or find shit on the floor,” he calls out to the room, settling under his sheets with a huff. The mission had been a success, but it had involved staking out on site for three whole days, getting ambushed by a Talon strike team when escorting an arrogant omnic movie director through his _own damn set_ , then having to sit through an agonisingly long movie, _the director’s cut no less_ , when said director flippantly offered a special advanced screening just for them that the younger agents had instantly accepted before he could tell the omnic just where he could stick those six special passes.

 

Admittedly, the movie was pretty good, but Gabriel would be damned before he had to admit he was bone tired and just wanted some rest. Finally devoid of his armour and wrapped in warm, familiar sheets, that rest came easy.

 

Gabriel wakes to the last of the sun’s rays streaming through his window, the seagulls cawing at the orange of Gibraltar's evening sky. Groggy, he sits up and drags his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing at his face. The feel of intact skin still feels strange under his fingers, and he presses them against his cheeks again, half-expecting the flesh to give way and expose teeth. But it remains solid and plaint under his fingers, and Gabriel finds himself grudgingly impressed with Angela’s ability to achieve the impossible.

 

At the thought of Angela, he looks up to survey the room, this time having no trouble spotting his unwelcome guest.

 

Amidst the low light of the room and on top of the rumpled black compression shirt he had tossed on the floor, the shock of pure white acts like a beacon drawing his eye. Curled up with his paws under him, the cat sleeps, just like any other cat. His fur is short, thin in some places, tail long and flicking at the tip in his sleep. If it wasn’t for the two jagged lines cutting across the feline’s face where no fur had regrown, Gabriel would have thought that Jack being turned into a house pet had been some deranged sleep-deprived dream.

 

A rumble from his stomach breaks through his thoughts, his body reminding him that he hasn’t had anything to eat in over twelve hours. He idly wonders if the cat—if _Jack_ , God, this is some weird fucked up shit to get used to—is hungry too.

 

“No sense having to deal with a dead cat in the room if it starves,” he grumbles to himself as he stands, letting the blankets fall back to the bed.

 

Jack immediately leaps to his feet at the disturbance in the air, ears and tail standing straight and all signs of slumber gone in a flash. Blue eyes, wide and round, stare up at him and watch his every move. White fur bristles along his arched back. Gabriel raises an eyebrow at the display. His mother had owned enough cats in his youth for him to recognise the signs of an unfriendly one.

 

“God, you’re just as grouchy even as a damn cat,” says Gabriel with a shake of his head. “Move over, Morrison. I’m not telling you twice.”

 

As if in response, Jack hisses, jowls pulled back to display little curved fangs. The blue of his eyes narrow into slits of cobalt as his ears flatten against his skull.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you should know by now that your bitching doesn’t have any effect on me,” says Gabriel, stepping towards the cat. “Now move.”

 

Jack, stubborn as ever, stands his ground for a moment longer, sizing up the man clearly much larger than him and Gabriel gets the feeling he’s being considered as a six foot two scratching post. Gabriel growls a challenge and advances another step, foot coming down a scant two feet away from the spitting cat.

 

Sparing the man one last hiss and flick of his bottle brush tail, Jack scampers, darting to the other side of the room to disappear under the rickety chest of drawers.

 

Huffing, Gabriel stoops to pick up his shirt, eyeing the mess of white fur stuck to the black fabric before sighing and tossing it in the general direction of the laundry hamper. His socks are also in a similar state of being afflicted with cat fur. As is his coat. He grumbles extra loud at this for Jack to hear, cat fur is hell to get off of leather, damn it!

 

Conceding defeat, Gabriel stalks over to retrieve some fresh clothes. Yanking open a drawer, he rumbles out a curse at stupid white cats as he pulls out a clean hoodie and jams it over his head.

 

His screech is heard moments later echoing down the corridor as a set of claws appear from beneath the chest of drawers to sink into his bare feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing with my life


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel’s scowl deepens when he enters the kitchen to a shrill shriek of laughter piercing the air. 

 

“You’re kidding!” gasps Hana, struggling to control her laughter. “And then what?”

 

“So then, Zarya takes what’s left of the window and—” Lucio pauses mid-sentence as he spots Gabriel, grin broadening. “Hey man! You must have slept like the  _ dead _ , missed lunch and everything. How’s it going?”

 

“Wish I’d never woken up,” rumbles Gabriel, shooting the DJ a glare before opening the fridge and rooting through its contents. 

 

“Leave him alone, Luce. The old man needs his daily afternoon nap,” quips Hana, her cheeky grin audible in her voice.

 

He catches sight of a large pizza box, the name ‘Jesse’ scrawled on the cardboard in thick marker. Next to it and bearing the same name is a battered box of fries, three meatballs, and a piece of garlic bread. He lifts up the cover of the pizza box, finding half of a pepperoni pizza still inside. Not the best, but they would do for a snack. He snatches up both boxes—the least the ingrate owed him is a meal—and lets the door glide closed.

 

“Aren’t those McCree’s?” asks Lucio, watching as Gabriel stuffs the leftover pizza into the microwave.

 

“Not anymore,” snarls Gabriel, slamming the microwave closed and punching the buttons. 

 

“Someone’s grumpy,” remarks Hana, taking another sip of her iced lemon tea. “Wait, why didn’t you heat— _ OH MY GOD, ew, gross! _ ”

 

Ignoring Hana’s cries of disgust, Gabriel chews on the cold garlic bread, swallowing before shoving a handful of equally cold fries into his mouth.

 

“Dude, that’s vile,” says Lucio with a laugh, the young man sounding much more impressed in contrast to Hana’s mimed retching. They weren’t wrong, the cold mush of fries taste especially horrible on his tongue, but he swallows them anyway.

 

“Try being an enhanced soldier and going without food for half a day,” says Gabriel, shovelling the last of the fries into his mouth and eyeing the timer on the microwave. 

 

“I don’t think I’m very thirsty anymore,” says Hana, pushing away her tea and sticking her tongue out. 

 

“Your loss!” says Lucio, wasting no time in grabbing her drink and chugging it in one go.

 

“You’re  _ both _ disgusting,” says Hana with a shudder. “How can you  _ laugh _ at something like that?”

 

“Hey now, you laugh at videos of people crying over horror games and I don’t shame you for it, have some respect.” Lucio sets down the empty glass with a burp, peering thoughtfully at the slice of lemon at the bottom.

 

“Any of you….” Gabriel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Any of you two owned cats before?”

 

Hana swivels in her chair to face him, and Lucio takes the chance of her distraction to peel the lemon slice from the bottom of the glass and throw it into his mouth.

 

“I used to, back home,” says Hana, “but none of us are looking after Jack for you.”

 

“Who says I was even going to ask that?” Gabriel grinds out, trying his best not to glare at her. Damn it, does the whole base already know?

 

Hana scoffs. “Are you  _ kidding? _ It’s so obvious you hate his guts!”

 

“It’s written all over your face,” says Lucio. Gabriel wonders how the kid just swallowed a slice of lemon without so much as blinking. “I mean, it’s no secret that you and Mr. Morrison still aren’t exactly on talking terms. The way you guys tear into each other when you think no one is listening is really something else.”

 

Hana grins. “Yeah, just like an old, mar— _ OUCH!  _ Watch it, Luce!”

 

Grumbling, Gabriel turns away from the pair and pretends not to notice when Hana dodges the second kick coming at her from under the table, nearly toppling over in her chair. Maybe he would have more luck asking Oxton. How did these kids still have so much energy after a week-long mission, anyway?

 

The screeching beeps of the microwave assaults their ears and Gabriel bites back a grimace, quickly stopping it and pulling out his pizza. He picks up the remaining box of meatballs in his other hand and rises to his feet.

 

“You kids behave,” he rumbles, walking out of the kitchen. “I don’t want to hear about any more damn walls getting knocked down.”

 

“That was just one time,  _ appa! _ ” Hana yells at his back right as the door closes. He elects not to reply, making his way back to his room.

 

An idea strikes him just as he reaches his door, and he grins, setting the box of meatballs down on the ground and popping open the lid. Opening the door and letting himself in, he calls out to the room. 

 

“Morrison, food’s outside if you don’t want to starve.”

 

A pink nose pokes out from under the chest of drawers, twitching. A scarred, white face follows soon after, icy cobalt eyes shining at him as Jack fixes his attention on the pizza box in his hand.

 

“Don’t even think about it, this is mine. Yours is outside. Go get it.” 

 

Jack glances out the open door, whiskers shifting as his nose twitches again. Gabriel watches him from the tail of his eye as he sits down on the bed. Good. The instant that furry ass is outside, he’s going to slam the door shut and bolt it down six ways to Sunday. He waits, but Jack continues to stare out the open doorway, unmoving, still only halfway out from under the furniture.

 

Gabriel shrugs. He can wait. He opens up the pizza box, the aroma of grilled cheese and pepperoni wafting up to meet his nose. He inhales deeply, relishing in the scent made all the sweeter imagining McCree’s face when he realises it’s gone. Mouth watering, he reaches for a slice. 

 

“Mrow.”

 

Pausing, Gabriel looks up to see Jack has finally left the shadows of the chest of drawers, now sitting on the floor a good five feet away and eyeing him warily. 

 

“This is mine,” says Gabriel, glaring at Jack and pulling his pizza closer to himself. “Go get your own food.”

 

“Mrow,” says Jack again, walking towards him and halving the distance between them, blue eyes flicking between the pizza in his hand to Gabriel. Even as a cat, Jack’s voice sounds gutted, like he’s swallowed fifty grit sandpaper. The meow sounds halfway like a growl.

 

“No,” Gabriel enunciates the word with deliberate heaviness, glaring into almond-shaped blues. “I am  _ not _ sharing. Fuck off, Morrison.”

 

Jack tenses up, spine curved and head low, eyes intent on the drooping pizza in his hand. The white tail flicks once through the air.

 

Gabriel realises what’s happening a moment before Jack springs.

 

“JACK, NO!”

 

Flinching backwards, Gabriel lifts the pizza up above his head, high and out of Jack’s reach. Jack crashes into his stomach in a whirlwind of fur and claws. Gabriel gasps, winded, toppling backwards with his back flat on the bed. He lies there for a moment, pizza slice still held above his head. He listens to Jack wolfing down the rest of the pizza as the cat settles down, a warm weight on his sternum. 

 

“That’s going to make you sick, you know.”

 

The furry white tail whips across his face, smacking him across his cheek and nose. He goes to push Jack off with his free hand, but Jack sinks his claws into his shirt and refuses to budge. Gabriel has a half a mind to give that stupid tail a good yank when his stomach grumbles, reminding him that it still needs more food. He lifts his head to glance at Jack, the cat still sitting on his torso and inhaling the remnants of what was supposed to be  _ his _ evening snack, before dropping back onto the sheets with a groan.

 

Well, cold meatballs are better than nothing, he supposes.

 

\---

 

By the time the third cold meatball is down his gullet, Gabriel is fuming.

 

He glances back into his room. Jack is still sitting on his bed, primly licking at his paws and cleaning his whiskers as if he hadn’t just eaten half of a greasy sixteen inch pepperoni pizza all by himself. Looking at the half-eaten slice of pizza he’d managed to save, he allows himself a rumbling sigh.

 

“Hey, jackass.”

 

Jack immediately glances up and stills, paw held in the air as both ears swivel towards him. Wide, unblinking blue eyes watch Gabriel standing just outside of his doorway. Gabriel wonders for a moment if his attention was drawn purely by the noise or the recognition of his old nickname.

 

Holding up the very last piece of pizza, Gabriel waves it in the air.

 

“You liked that pizza, huh? Want some more?” says Gabriel, feeling sillier by the second. Hero of the Omnic Crisis, former Blackwatch Commander, and widely feared during his stint as the Talon agent Reaper, and here he is luring a balding old cat with a piece of pizza. “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?”

 

He isn’t sure if Jack could still be hungry after eating all that, but from the way Jack’s eyes follow the pizza in his hand, Gabriel knows he’s got the cat’s attention. He shuffles backwards into the corridor, bending lower and holding the pizza closer to the ground. “Come on, come and get it now.”

 

Still watching him, Jack leaps off the bed with that uncanny feline grace. Stalking closer, he licks his chops, steadily closing the distance between them. Gabriel smirks.

 

“Yeah, this is the good stuff right here, and you know it,” Gabriel continues to tempt Jack with the pizza, coaxing him out into the corridor. Jack prowls after him with every step Gabriel retreats, eyes focused on the prize on his hand. Soon enough, his paws pass the threshold, then the tip of his flicking tail clears the doorway and Gabriel makes his move.

 

Gabriel flings the piece of pizza down the corridor in the opposite direction, the savoury flatbread sailing through the air to land on the carpeted floor with a muffled thump. Jack pounces after it like a stone from a slingshot, snatching up the treat in his mouth.

 

Wasting no time, Gabriel leaps the three steps to his room and slams the door shut. He waits, watching the wooden barrier with bated breath.

 

There is a sudden thump against the door, a shrieking yowl following it moments later. A triumphant grin spreads across Gabriel’s face when Jack smacks into the door again.

 

“Serves you right,  _ pendejo! _ ” he shouts through the door, cackling as Jack delivers another furious yowl. Gabriel pats his hand of pizza crumbs, making his way over to his bed and dumping the greasy pizza box on the desk. He takes one look at the standard issue bed covers coated in a smattering of loose white fur and yanks them off, throwing them to the floor. No way is he sleeping on a layer of cat fur. He drags a fresh set out from the wardrobe, making the bed with crisp efficiency before changing the pillowcases for good measure. 

 

But it’s a while before he needs to sleep again and though faint hunger still nibbles at his stomach, he’d be damned if he opens the door to go to the kitchen only to let Jack back in. So he settles for getting around to maintaining his weapons. Pulling out his chair and dropping into it, he draws out his shotguns and sets them down on the table.

 

A third, louder yowl punches his eardrums, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a set of claws raking over wood. Gabriel winces, trying not to think about the damage to his door as he digs out the bottle of gun oil from a drawer and tries to block out the noise. Surely Jack would get bored eventually and go fuck off somewhere else.

 

But the relentless yowling doesn’t stop, not ten minutes later when both his shotguns have been cleaned and oiled to perfection, and still continuing even two hours afterwards while Gabriel sits upon fresh covers on his bed, scrolling through a news article on his tablet.

 

Growling, Gabriel glares at the closed door as if the daggers in his eyes could go right through it and stab Jack. That man never knew when to quit, and that apparently didn’t change along with his species.

 

Another hour passes and goes well past midnight during which Jack’s yowling has reduced to a warbly kind of wail and Gabriel has moved on to taking some sellotape and trying to remove the worst of the cat fur from his discarded clothes. Another mournful wail grates against his ears and Gabriel rips the tape off his kevlar pants with more force than necessary. Just why the fuck did Morrison want to get into his room so badly? There are literally fifty other rooms in the Watchpoint, why his?

 

The added din of his comm line ringing doesn’t do anything to improve his mood.

 

“What do you want?” he demands, answering the call without looking at the ID as he balls up the used tape of cat fur and tosses it at its growing pile of fellow tape balls.

 

“Gabriel, for fuck’s sake, let your damn cat in so we can have some peace and quiet,” Sombra’s voice comes through line, thick with sleep.

 

Gabriel rips out another strip of tape. “He’s not  _ my— _ !”

 

He cuts off with a grimace as Jack scratches at the door with another pitiful cry.

 

“He wants to get into your room so stop being a stubborn mule. Some people need to fucking  _ sleep _ .”

 

The line clicks dead before Gabriel can reply and he throws the comm away with a curse, the device clattering as it skidded on the floor. Outside, Jack wails again.

 

Gabriel bites back a roar as he hurls the roll of tape away from him which bounces off the wall and narrowly misses his head on its way back. Standing so swiftly he upsets the mountain of furry tape balls, he stalks over to the door and wrenches it open.

 

“That’s  _ enough, _ Morrison!”

 

Jack stares up at him with wide, round eyes right in front of him, slowly settling down on his haunches. He lifts his whiskers in a demure meow as if he hadn’t just spent the entire night raising hell outside his door.

 

“Don’t play innocent with me, asshole,” says Gabriel through gritted teeth, stabbing a finger at him. “You’d better— _ Oi! Listen to me when I’m talking to you! _ ”

 

Jack pays him no mind, bounding into the room and diving into the mound of discarded bedsheets pooled on the floor.

 

“You know what? Fuck you,  _ fine, _ whatever. Do whatever you like. I don’t care anymore.”

 

The sheets shift and that infuriating face peeks out from between the linen folds, balding ears twitching in his direction. Ignoring him, Gabriel stalks to the corner of the room to retrieve the roll of tape, having half a mind to hurl it at the pile of bed sheets. He settles for glaring at the sheets and imagining them on fire, tossing the tape onto his desk instead.

 

“I hope you fucking suffocate in there, old man,” snaps Gabriel, picking his tablet back up and flopping down on the bed. Electing to ignore Jack and pretend he isn’t even there, he pulls up a knitting patterns website and scrolls through the page, not really looking at the colourful pictures. 

 

“And I hope you know how much you fucking suck!” he grumbles at the tablet, glaring at a preview image of a pair of bright pink woolen arm sleeves.

 

His only answer comes in a muffled shuffle and a meow he could swear sounds almost smug.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad some people seem to enjoy this fic! I've never actually owned a cat myself so I'm basing a lot of this off of tropes and cat videos on YouTube, but since this was kind of meant as a low pressure thing for me I'm figuring that's okay.
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy with me!


End file.
